Dressed in a black tuxedo and a charcoal-gray vest, David Higbee turned and faced his applauding guests as he reached out and grasped the hand of his new bride, Angela Childress Higbee.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the very first time, may I present Mr. and Mrs. David and Angela Higbee," the minister said.

The guy in the tux is the same guy who almost missed his high school graduation because he neglected to reserve his cap and gown in time.

The guy in the tux is the same guy who is driving a family-friendly sport utility vehicle after years of inching along in a smoking, spitting 1991 Toyota Tercel.

The guy in the tux is the same guy whose life used to spin in a galaxy of Sega video consoles, Japanese animation videos and half-empty boxes of Froot Loops.

David Higbee, 22, was married on June 21 at Strathearn Historical Park in Simi Valley. At the same time, he became stepfather to a little blonde girl who already calls him Daddy.

The high school where Higbee accepted his diploma four years ago is just two miles away, but the distance his life has covered in that time makes it seem like a million.

Since 1999, Higbee has checked off more life milestones than many people twice his age.

He's relocated four times, been laid off, accepted a new job, quit that one, got another job, fallen in love, become engaged, gotten married and now has a family.

After four years, Higbee's hakuna matata mantra is still a part of him, but the "don't worry, be happy" attitude now plays second fiddle to a steady beat of adult responsibilities.

"People tell me, 'You need to plan ahead!'" Higbee said a few days after his 1999 graduation from Royal High School in Simi Valley. "If I plan ahead, that will be boring."

At first, Higbee's que sera, sera style seemed to land him on his feet.

He chose to bypass college and go directly into the work force after one of his high school English teachers recommended him to Simi-based Nortel Networks, a telecommunications equipment manufacturer.

Throughout high school, Higbee had been the "go-to" guy anytime a computer broke down, and the teacher thought his talents would be of value to Nortel. She was right.

For two years, he worked at Nortel as a Web designer in a cubicle he had fitted with an inflatable "Dilbert" door. Suspended from Velcro hinges, the plump entryway was printed with the words: "Envy My Door."

There was much to envy about Higbee's life at the time. At 19, he had moved out of his parents' Simi Valley home and into a nearby two-bedroom apartment with a longtime buddy, Mike Akers, also 19.

The roommates thrived on pizzas, Ding Dongs and milk that needed sniffing. They watched "Jackass" and pitted video hardbodies against one another on a big-screen TV. Higbee's bedroom was a happy ruin of computer shrapnel, potato chip bags and Japanese animation videos.

He was dabbling in some psychology and philosophy courses at Moorpark College, but decide on a major? Way too much planning for this guy.

"Maybe I'll major in something that no one else does -- like professional curling," he said. "You know, when you chase a ball around the ice with brushes ..."

Higbee joked about his future, but a serious crash in the technology industry was about to tighten his relaxed-fit attitude.

Laid off

In March 2001, Higbee was among 200 employees laid off by Nortel Networks, which was hard-hit by the technology downturn.

"I should have known I was getting laid off because the day before, my boss said, 'I don't think (the layoffs are) going to affect you or anybody in your department,' " Higbee said.

The guy who hated to plan any further than his next meal now had to scramble. He spent every waking hour on a Web site -- www.digitallint.com -- to showcase his talent to prospective employers as he began looking for work.

His parents suggested he go back to school, but ... nah.

"I keep forgetting to sign up," he said back then, adding: "I want to be able to buy a degree."

His severance package ran out in the summer and Higbee had to move back in with his parents for awhile.

Just before he relocated, Higbee linked up via e-mail with a young woman who would upend his life even more.

Angela and Emily

Friends who knew Angela Childress and Higbee suggested the two start corresponding. At the time, the never-married Childress was 17 and raising her baby daughter in her parents' Simi Valley home. She also was earning her high school degree through an independent study program.

After months of correspondence, the two finally agreed to meet in late summer. They chose a public place -- a park with a bowling alley.

"She thought I was a psycho killer who was going to drag her out in a field," Higbee joked.

The two wound up sitting in Higbee's car and talking for so long they didn't notice the park had closed until a police officer blinded them with a searchlight and ordered Higbee out of the car.

The unusual first date launched a speedy courtship. It wasn't long before Childress introduced Higbee to her daughter, Emily, whose father had never been in the child's life.

Childress' mother, Pattie, worried.

"When they first got involved, I asked Dave if he knew what he was getting into," Pattie said in 2001. "He didn't just start dating and get a girlfriend. He got a family at the same time."

Her concerns proved groundless; Higbee was smitten with both girls.

In the fall, Higbee moved into the Childress house and slid into the Daddy role. He changed diapers, comforted Emily in the middle of the night and spread his arms wide whenever he heard "Daddy!"

The responsibilities were heaping up, so Higbee was relieved when he finally landed a job as a software engineer at a Simi Valley company in the fall of 2001.

That November, Higbee proposed to Angela and the two began to plan their wedding and a three-day honeymoon to Angela's favorite spot: Disneyland.

And then there were three

A few days before their wedding, Higbee and Angela sat in her parents' living room, wedding presents stacked all around them, and talked about the wedding garb.

"I think I'm wearing a black and gray vest," Higbee said.

"It's charcoal!" Angela protested.

"Excuse me, charcoal," Higbee amended with a grin.

As he reminisced about his dwindling hours as a bachelor, Emily climbed up into Higbee's lap and lay against his chest. He folded his arms around the toddler.

There is nothing about his life that hasn't changed, he said, and nothing he would change.

"Before, it was spur of the moment everything. I never had to plan anything," Higbee said. "Now we have to get a baby sitter and make sure there's enough money for (everybody)."

Higbee's idea of a good time has changed, too. He and Childress have "couples friends," and he's abandoned the pastimes he used to enjoy with his single buddies.

"We would go out to the desert and blow up things," he said.

And what does he do now?

"We go see 'Finding Nemo,' " he said.

Higbee's evolution over the past four years has astounded his mother, Wilma Higbee.

"I'm amazed at how much he's grown up," she said. "He's such a good little father to Emily. He's begun to shape up. He's taken responsibility for things. He's going to school."

Higbee has decided that getting a degree was perhaps a good idea after all.

In May, he began work toward his associate's degree in business administration from an online university. When that's done, he plans to transfer his credits to a four-year college and go for his bachelor's degree.

The guy who joked about majoring in curling now works on his college degree at night after putting in a full day at the Hollywood job he accepted in February.

"I'm 'in the industry,' " he said, raising his hands and gesturing with his fingers to signal quotation marks.

Through a headhunter, Higbee landed a job as a software engineer for a music-industry marketing company called Fanscape.

So far, he loves it. He's making $20,000 more per year than he did at his previous job, and he gets free CDs, movie passes and videos.

"We get a lot of private concerts inside the office," Higbee said. "Whenever a new artist comes in, we have them play for us."

The newlyweds plan to live with Angela's parents until they are able to find a two-bedroom rental that's within their budget, which could be tough in this housing market.

Angela works at Kohl's and doesn't plan to pursue college. Her only wish is to be a mom -- and she wants to enlarge the family right away.

"She not only wants more kids, but three," Higbee said.

Asked how he felt about that, Higbee said:

"I'm O.K. with that, as long as I can afford it."

The wedding day

Gray mist cooled the skies over Strathearn Historical Park on the day of Angela's and Higbee's wedding.

About 60 guests rose from their plastic chairs as Angela walked across a grassy clearing to the arched trellis where Higbee waited with the minister.

With his left hand stuffed nonchalantly into a pocket, Higbee smiled at his bride as she approached in a floor-length white chiffon gown with fitted sleeves that flared at the elbow, a jeweled circlet anchoring a veil to her dark hair. In her hands was a bouquet of white roses and purple blooms.

An instrumental version of "Here Comes the Bride" emanated from amplifiers Higbee had hooked up to his laptop, which he set up to play all of the wedding music.

The tune faded into silence. The guests grew quiet. Angela's parents lifted her hand into Higbee's and then left her side.

As Angela and Higbee stood at the altar, Emily leapt from her front row seat to greet them, drawing chuckles from the crowd. Then the little girl turned and put her fingers to her lips. "Shhhhhh!" she told them.

The crowd obeyed.

Angela lost her battle to hold back tears as soon as non-denominational minister Frank Wood began the ceremony.

She dabbed at her face with a tissue as Higbee held onto her hand throughout the ceremony, rubbing a thumb back and forth over the backs of her fingers.

When Wood asked if David took Angela in joy and sorrow, in sickness and in health, till death did they part, his eyes never left hers:

"I do," he said.

After Angela had answered with her own "I do" through tears and nervous giggles, Wood turned them around and introduced the newly married couple to their guests.

Then he pointed Higbee and his new family down the aisle and toward the rest of their lives.